


Crawford's

by MadameMontgomery



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Hannibal is Not a Cannibal, Light Angst, M/M, Piano Lounge AU, Tumblr: hannigramholidayexchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9030371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameMontgomery/pseuds/MadameMontgomery
Summary: “Just a small loan,” Dr. Lecter said. Will glanced up then quickly away. Still staring. “One that was repaid more than in full with the opportunity of letting me play in-house.”


  “So selfless,” Will muttered. Bev elbowed him in the side.


  “Do you not think it selfless to help out a friend and ask nothing in return?” Will clenched his jaw.

The nerve of this guy, Jesus Christ.

  “Not when the offer is made to stroke your own ego, no, I really don’t.”

---
A Hannigram AU where everyone works at Crawford's, an upscale piano lounge in Baltimore, and Hannibal is the piano player who performs on the weekend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays and Happy Hannigram Holiday Exchange!! It's been exactly one year since I published my first fic, so this is a doubly special day!! This is a gift for [queeniebroccolini](http://queeniebroccolini.tumblr.com/), who asked for any AU. After writing, hating, and then entirely rewriting from scratch, I was listening to my brother play trumpet, got the idea of Hannibal playing at a piano lounge, and ran with it. Hope you enjoy!!
> 
> I own nothing but my mistakes.

The piano guy must have been new. Will had been working at Crawford’s for several months now, and he’s pretty sure he would have remembered someone with hair that severely slicked back. Or cheekbones that strong. Or a suit-and-tie combo that bad.

Plaid and paisley. Will rolled his eyes. Who did this guy think he was?

From the looks of his smug face, someone important.

Their emcee, Jimmy, was practically beaming when he introduced the man as _the gracious, generous, and all-around good-looking, Dr. Lecter!_ There was as much wild applause as one could get in an upscale piano lounge in Baltimore. Will was almost certain he saw one of the older women fanning herself.

So maybe not so new.

This _Dr. Lecter_ walked onto the stage with a charming smile and a nod of his head, shaking Jimmy’s hand before settling down at the piano. The roll of his shoulders said confidence. The steadiness of his fingers said experience. And his playing…his playing said…

_I belong up here. You came to see me. Watch me. Love me. I deserve this. I deserve your everything._

He caught Will glaring and winked at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Will rolled his eyes. God, he hated people like him.

===

He was back again the next week. And the week after that.

The crowd was slightly larger each time.

Jack was actually around during the fourth week, all smiles and big, booming laughs, sharing a glass of wine with the good doctor himself after his performance.

_Is this asshole even a doctor? Do people even give themselves professional titles for stage names?_

He honestly couldn’t tell if Jack liked this guy or liked the business he was pulling. As if on cue, they both turned to look at him. Jack was smiling, his good humor not dampened by Will’s usual sullen demeanor, but Dr. Lecter was staring at him, head tilted, eyes sharp. It was like being pinned under a glass for display. 

Will felt himself turning red, felt angry about the fact he was turning red, and turned away to help Beverly mix drinks. He would take her nosy teasing over being analyzed by some asshole any day.

“Maybe lighten up on the glare there, Will. Gonna scare away all the customers.” Bev gave him a smile to help soften the words and looked over his shoulder. “Looks like Jack is getting cozy with the new piano man.”

“I wish he wouldn’t.”

“Why? Did he say something to you?”

Will scoffed. “No, he just rubs me the wrong way.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “No offense, Will, but everyone rubs you the wrong way.”

“Well, yes,” he huffed a laugh, “but he’s the kind of asshole who lives off praise and adoration. Arrogant. Overconfident in himself and his social standing, so he thinks he can do whatever he wants, and that people will let him. And he’s right, they do. He’s shallow and pretentious, and he’s out there _peacocking_ like he owns the damn place.”

“Maybe he does. Or at least, part of it,” a voice behind him said. Will watched as Bev’s face drained, and he had to steel himself before turning around, plastering a smile on his face. He desperately hoped it looked more happy than panicky.

“Jack. Hello.”

Jack, thankfully, was looking more amused than anything. “Will, Beverly, I’d like you two to meet our house performer and my dear friend, Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Dr. Lecter, this is Will Graham and Beverly Katz, two of my best workers.”

Bev shook Dr. Lecter’s proffered hand. Will stared at the ground and willed himself not to say anything that would get himself fired. He could feel Dr. Lecter staring again.

“As I was saying, Hannibal does technically own a portion of Crawford’s as he was the one to help it off the ground.”

“Just a small loan,” Dr. Lecter said. Will glanced up then quickly away. Still staring. “One that was repaid more than in full with the opportunity of letting me play in-house.”

“So selfless,” Will muttered. Bev elbowed him in the side.

“Do you not think it selfless to help out a friend and ask nothing in return?” Will clenched his jaw.

_The nerve of this guy, Jesus Christ._

“Not when the offer is made to stroke your own ego, no, I really don’t.” He locked eyes hard with Dr. Lecter, and while most people would have been already walking away or near tears or at the very least, strongly offended, Will was surprised when Dr. Lecter’s polite smile only grew wider and more genuine. He looked somewhere between surprised and delighted. Will frowned in confusion.

_What the fuck?_

The awkward silence stretched a bit longer before Jack cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sure Dr. Lecter has other places to be tonight, but hopefully he will come join us again for another performance soon?”

The question, while normally just a polite formality, was actually a question this time, but Will wouldn’t apologize for what he’d said.

“Yes, of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world, especially now that I’m so well acquainted with your staff. Good evening, Jack. Ms. Katz.” He shook Jack’s hand, then Bev’s, then placed that same hand gently on Will’s shoulder. “Will.” 

His own name sounded lush, wrapped in the velvet of Dr. Lecter’s mouth, and his eyes were too warm and too intense. Will felt himself flushing again, too confused.

_What the_ fuck?

He walked past Will, and they all watched him leave. 

“Will,” Jack said, breaking the silence once again, “if you ever say anything like that again to anyone here, Hannibal or otherwise, consider yourself fired.”

Whether that was an actual threat or just for show (he really was one of Jack’s best workers), Will could feel himself nodding. He didn’t have time to think about that though, or the weird, questioning look Bev was giving him. He needed to sort himself out.

Preferably with a bottle of whiskey.

===

The next two weekends went by without issue. Unless you call _mysterious-maybe-doctor-who-was-way-too-interested-in-Will_ staring at him constantly as an issue, which it really was, but Dr. Lecter didn’t approach him. And Will, who had taken to hiding in the back as much as possible when he walked through the doors, could deal with that.

So of course, when the next weekend rolled around, it was right on par with his luck finally running out.

“I’d like to have you over for dinner.”

Will blinked and turned around. Dr. Lecter stood staring at him from across the bar counter, smiling warmly.

“What?”

His smile broadened. “I said I’d like to have you over for dinner.”

“Dr. Lecter, I—”

“Hannibal, please.”

Will squinted at him. “Okay, _Hannibal_ , I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like you,” he said bluntly. 

“You will.” There was a smile in his voice. Will clenched his fist as not to punch him.

“I’m _sure_.”

There was a long pause, and he tentatively turned back to his work. It was a busy night, it always was when Hannibal came to play, and Will didn’t really have the time to deal with this. Bev was shooting him pointed glances from down the bar, meaning she needed his help but also that he was in for an interrogation later. Not that there was much to tell. Or would be much to tell. He just hoped the asshole would take the hint but then:

“So is that a yes for dinner?”

“Fucking Chri—No!” He set down a bottle of Vodka a little too hard, and a bit sloshed up and out of the top. The alcohol in that bottle was probably worth at least one night’s pay, but he couldn’t care less. “ _I don’t like you_. I don’t even know you, and I don’t like you.”

“Then let’s get to know each other.” Will laughed in disbelief.

_I can’t even believe this guy._

“Oh, I know enough about you to know I don’t want to know more.”

“Then please, enlighten me.” The fucker even looked _excited_. 

“Fine. If you want to know so badly. I know you’re full of yourself. Anyone can see that with your stupid suits that cost more than my car and your slicked back hair. I also know you’ve never had to work a day in your life for anything, you have a god complex a mile wide, and you like to play with people because of that. You think you help people with your presence, that they just _need_ you and your pity. But they don’t. I don’t. See, I know how people like you work, and I won’t be your latest white trash sympathy fuck just because you were _bored_ and I was _unattached_ and _a nice change of pace_ and _obviously desperate enough_ and all those other things that make me appealing until the morning after. So fuck you, Hannibal Lecter. That’s what I know.”

His chest was heaving. His heart was pounding. It just felt so good to get that all out. Will was riding his high and looked over his shoulder, ready to savor Dr. Lecter’s expression when he saw that Will knew what he _really_ was—

What he wasn’t expecting was the hurt, almost heartbroken look on his face. Why did he look that way? It was the truth so why did he look so sad? Will wasn’t the bad guy here, but then. Then. He just didn’t understand—

Dr. Lecter took a small step back and looked at the floor. “I’m sorry, Will. I will…” 

He trailed off, blinking hard, before turning and quickly walking out. He left before Will could say anything.

There was nothing left to say.

===

Dr. Lecter didn’t come back the next week.

Will refused to feel bad or take blame.

===

Or the next.

He caught himself looking up every time someone came in, but it was never Dr. Lecter—no, _Hannibal_. He forced himself to stop.

===

Or the next after that.

He didn’t even look up anymore. In the mornings, he woke up next to new empty bottle of whiskey. He told himself he didn’t feel bad, but he also purposely didn’t think about crying through his pillow case.

===

It had been 28 days since Will had last seen Hannibal, and he wished he cared more about the fact that he knew the exact amount of time that had passed than the fact that, for some unfathomable reason, he missed him.

It was obvious enough to the others that they started poking at him more than usual. Jimmy had suggested a boy’s night out. Jack offered some paid vacation time. Bev had even taken to inviting him over for movie nights, saying she was bored of watching them by herself, but he knew she was concerned about him spending so much time alone at home. They all were. He appreciated it more than he was willing to admit but turned them down anyway. He had decided he was going to keep trying the _drink-to-forget_ method until it worked or until his liver gave out. 

He was in the middle of debating whether or not it was worth the splurge for better whiskey if he was just going to drink the whole bottle in one night when—

“Hello, Will.”

He inhaled sharply.

_No way, it’s not possible, it’s not—_

Hannibal stood at the counter, dressed in a red sweater, his hair soft and falling into his eyes. He looked wary, as if Will was about to go off on him again, but he smiled softly.

“May I have a glass of whatever’s red and already open?”

“Yeah—yeah, of course. Are you…playing tonight?”

“Ah, no. I just finished consulting on a case, and I’m too tired tonight.”

“Consulting? For who?”

“The FBI. I provided a psychological profile.”

_Doctor isn’t just a stage name then._

“Oh.”

Hannibal took a seat at the bar as Will handed him his glass. They watched Tobias, the man who had been playing on weekends while Hannibal was gone, tap away at the keys. He was good, but he wasn’t Hannibal. Even the crowd knew that, the packed house nights dwindling down to their more regular patrons with a handful of fresh faces thrown in.

“I prefer the harpsichord.”

Will blinked then looked at Hannibal, who was already looking back at him.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Another soft smile. “I said I prefer the harpsichord.”

“Oh. I don’t think I’ve listened to enough harpsichord for it to make a real impression.”

“It’s a beautiful instrument. The sound is warmer and resonates deeper. It’s one you can feel in your chest if you’re open to letting it in.”

_Letting it in…_

“I like dogs,” Will blurted, and it was Hannibal’s turn to blink. He continued, “I don’t have any yet, but I’d like one. Or seven. Eventually. I also drink too much whiskey. And I’m usually a very good read of people, so maybe I tend to assume things that maybe aren’t always true. And definitely not deserved.”

He knew he was blushing again, but Hannibal was beaming at him.

“I,” Hannibal paused, licking his lips, “may come off strong and prideful, and perhaps I am a bit, but not so much that I’ve ceased to be human. I help my friends because they deserve it, not because it’s a power trip. I asked you to dinner not to humiliate you, but because I think you’re beautiful and brilliant and entirely captivating.” He paused again, looking away this time, “And despite your earlier words, I’ve barely been able to think of anything else this past month but you.”

Will, who had been staring at his shoes in shock, face on fire, took a quick peak at Hannibal. He wasn’t faring any better, cheeks as red as his sweater and eyes downcast.

The silence stretched.

“I get off at midnight but I’m always hungry after work.” Will said, voice rough, “I can make a mean grilled trout.” His voice tipped up at the end, asking an unspoken question.

Hannibal’s smile was more than an answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! Kudos and comments are a writer's lifeblood!
> 
> Come say hi!
> 
> [stormygalahad.tumblr.com](http://stormygalahad.tumblr.com/)


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